PS 

2>525 
116 Re 

1904- 




Class. 
Book 



■-••2.5" 



U'i 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



The Rose of Old Seville 

A Play and Poems 

BY 

ELIZABETH MINOT 




BOSTON 

Richard G. Badger 

T^he Gorham Press 
1904 ;; \A\:, 



Copyright 1904 by Richard G. Badger 
All Rights Reser-ved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Ccpies Received 

APR 19 1904 

Copyrigrht Entry 
CLASS ^ XXc. No. 

J? 4 9 7 4 

COPY ff 






Printed at 

Ths, Gorham Press 

J^oston, U, S, A 



CONTENTS 



The Rose of Old Seville — A Romantic 
Drama in three Acts and Prologue 



POEMS. 



rnber Song . 
ouard . 
AVer Song. 

.'e and Death. 

•dry Stuart's Prayer 

3gret 

ttainment 
In Spring . 
Mignonette 
To Sarah Orne Jewett 
The Sirens 
The Cardinal Flower 
A Christmas Song 
Mary Easte 
At Brook Farm 
Forget-Me-Nots 
Valentine , 
A Vision . 
Pot-Pourri . 

ong . 



PAGE 

7 



29 
32 
34 
35 
36 
38 

39 
40 

41 
42 
43 

45 
46 

47 
49 
49 
50 
50 
51 
52 



Queen Anne 

Rose Leaves 

A Fern Song 

Kathleen Mavourneen 

The Moss Rose . 

Friends 

A Year Ago 

The Chickadee 

A Friend 

Queen Anne's Lace 

Autumn's Flower . 

Midsummer's Message 

Beyond the Gates 

x\fter Long Years. 

If I Were You . 

The Sunset Road. 

Rest . 

For All Souls' Day 

The Peace of Earth 

In the World 

At Dawn 

A November Birthday 

A Sea Song . 

Simpatica 

In My Dream 









PAGE 


Recognition 78 


Life's Helpers .... 






79 


Charlotte Cushman's Grave 






80 


From the Depths .... 






81 


Elizabeth 






82 


A Song for Valentine 






^3 


The Queen's Maries 






84 


Translation of L'Archet . 






86 



The Rose of Old Seville 

A ROMANTIC DRAMA IN THREE ACTS, AND PROLOGUE 

DRAMATIS PERSONS 



DONNA ISABELLA— r/^e Rose of Seville. 

DON PIETRO DI ALVAREZ— a Spanish Trou- 
badour, in love with Isabella. 

DON RODRIGO DI HERNANDEZ— hereditary 
enemy to Pietro, in love with Isabella. 

THE WHITE LADY— a good spirit, attendant on 
Pietro. 

DIAVOLO — an evil spirit, attendant on Rodrigo. 

THE GYPSY QUEEN. 

DUENNA. 

Chorus of gypsies and invisible spirits. 



TIME. Fifteenth Century. PLACE. Spain. 
Costumes of the period. White Lady in white', flow- 
ing bridal robes. 



PROLOGUE 

A Wood. Morning. 

ACT I 
Street in Seville, before the balcony of Isabella's house, 

ACT II 

Room in Isabella's house. 

ACT III 
Same as in Act I. 



7 



PROLOGUE 

The gypsy camp. Gypsies are picturesquely grouped 
around the fire as curtain rises. Light jrom back. G. 
come to front of stage. 

CHORUS. (Half facing light.) 

Out from the East flashes the light of day! (Repeat.) 
CHORUS. SONG TO THE SUN 

Up from the realms of that once mighty potentate, 

Solomon, David's son, wisest of kings, 
Up from the land of the ruby and amethyst, 

More burning jewels the golden sun flings! 

Greetings, glad greetings we bring thee as heritage, 
Sun of our forefathers, changeless and true; 

Singing, we hail thy first rays with our melody. 
Drinking joy's draughts from thy bright beams anew ! 

QUICK DANCE 

Gypsy queeny a beautiful young woman^ comes to centre. 
QUEEN. SONG 

Oh my heart was weary. 

Waiting for the day, 
Dark the night and dreary, 

While I sleepless lay. 
Seeing, with strange vision, 

Faces come and go. 
Bearing hope, yet sadness, 

Joy and bitter woe. 
CHORUS. For you? For us? 



QUEEN. 

Nay, tVas for another, 

Pure and young and fair, 
For that matchless maiden, 
Dower'd with beauty rare. 
Whom our noble city, 
By its loving will, 
{Enter Isabella and Duenna at hacky slowly.) 
Calls "Fair Isabella, 
Rose of Old Seville!" 
CHORUS. {Perceiving I. and D.) 
Hail, fair Isabella, 
Rose of Old Seville! 
I. My thanks to you all! We have wandered far 
from the path to our good city. Will some kind friend 
direction give? 

Q. Yes, noble lady, but I pray thee, look first upon 
our morning sports. My people love thee, and would 
fain some pleasure to thee bring. 

I. Gladly will I thy gracious courtesy receive! 
{To D.) My friend, we will remain awhile amidst 
such kindly welcoming. 

{Slow, rhythmical dance oj gypsies, with interlacing, 
intended to express the interference oj evil with good, 
and the final simple movement, the triumph oj virtue.) 

Q. Fair lady, the stars their secrets tell to me, and 
in mortal hand as well, the future lies revealed. Last 
night a vision came, and now would I thy fortune 
read, to warn, perchance, perchance to aid thy trem- 
bling heart 'mid trials sore. 

I. What tender care is this ! {Gives hand.) Read — 
and may heavenly powers thy guardians be! 
{Q. holds Ps. extended hand, gazing intently.) 



10 



CHORUS. CHANT 

Mystical, wonderful, 
Knowledge ineffable, 
Comes to the Zingara 
Through hidden spell; 
Whispering, murmuring 
Voices encompass her. 
Visions of angels their 
Mighty truths tell. 
See! o'er the maiden's hand, 
Lightly the tear drops fall; 
Queen of our faithful band, 
Guard her 'gainst all, — 
All of life's agony, 
.All of death's bitterness. 
Guard her, protect her, 
The sweet rose of Spain! 
Dear Isabella, 
Fair Isabella, 
Queen of adoring hearts, 
Long may she reign! 
QUEEN. RECITATIVE 

Beware — beware — beware ! 
The trial approaches; 
Darkly the shadows fall,- 
A serpent lifts his head, 
I see the forked tongue, 
Th' envenomed sting! 
Now light effulgent shines; 
From Heaven descending 
A radiant spirit comes. 
Whose outstretched hands 
Reach toward thine own, 
Blessed art thou! 



I. Oh mystic words! I fear, and yet I hope, and 
though I may not understand thy warning, yet me- 
thinks 'tis better not to seek the hidden truth, but 
wait in peace the will of powers inscrutable. Fare- 
well. May kindly spirits guard thee evermore ! {Em- 
braces queen.) (To gypsies.) Farewell, good friends, 
all joys be thine! 

(Exit slowly with D., two gypsies guiding.) 

CHORUS. 

FAREWELL 

Farewell, farewell, farewell! 
Sunshine surround thee, 

Sweet Rose of Spain, 
Through all life's trials 

Hope will remain; 
Take to thy pure heart 

Our tender care, 
Which would protect thee 

From every snare! 

(Repeat last two lines, changing every to each.) 
Farewell, farewell, farewell ! 
Tableau, 
Curtain, 



ta 



ACT I 

Before the balcony of Isabella's house. 
Pietro discovered pacing up and down singing to 
guitar. 

{Mandolin or violin might be substituted.) 
SONG 
Vision of beauty, tender, entrancing, 

Wert thou a spirit or maid of fair Spain ? 
Goulds' t thou behold my heart's ardor glancing 
Through eyes that spoke only love's sweet refrain? 
Alone the world I tread, 
With care oppressed; 
Each fondest hope has fled 

My soul distressed: 
My tender glance met thine 

With love's glad light, 
But all my joys decline 
In darkest night! {Repeat first stanza.) 
W. L. {From outside.) Pietro! Pietro! {Enter.) 
Pietro! 
P. {Starting.) Who goes there? 
W. L. {Advancing.) Kno west thou me not, Pietro? 
P. Nay, I know thee not, and yet methinks I have 
no fear, though all my senses say to me thou comest from 
another world than this. Speak. Who art thou, and 
what wilt thou with me? 

W. L. Yes, from another world come I, whose 
glories and whose mysteries these lips may ne'er un- 
fold. Bethink thee of the portrait that hangs in thine 
ancestral hall, the lady with the sad dark eyes, in 
bridal robes. {Drawing aside white veil from her face.) 
Knowest thou this face, Pietro? 



13 



p. (Kneeling.) Well do I know thee! Thou art 
mine ancestress, before whose picture have I often 
knelt in rapt devotion. (Tries to touch her hand.) 

W. L. Touch me not, Pietro. Mortal hand may 
not diviner spirit essence feel. Yes, Maria di Alvarez, I, 
who from thine infancy hath watched o'er thee. Many 
a time would I have stood before thee in mine own 
true guise, but greater might than mine said nay. 
To-night hath freedom dawned, and to thee, lonely, 
sad, as I well know, I come to bring hope's blessing. 
Trust in me, and tell me reason for thy grief. 

P. Alone the world I face. My father, slain by 
ancient foe, has long since rested from this weary life, 
with my sweet mother, who his death could not sur- 
vive. Nor brother, sister, friend smiles on my tedious 
days, and yestereve, outside the vast cathedral, I espied 
the fairest maid in all dear Spain's broad lands. Her 
large dark eyes beamed tenderly on me, as I stood 
speechless at the sight of face more perfect than a 
pictured saint. Her name, her lineage, know I not, 
and yet for me the world is clothed in darkness, may 
I not her chosen knight become, and win the love of 
that sweet soul. 

W. L. Such blessings shall be thine, Pietro. My 
mission is to cure thy heart's deep sorrow. Invisible, 
I marked thee at the maiden's side. Know thy lady's 
name. Donna Isabella, the Rose of fair Seville! 

P. Donna Isabella ! Well the name I know. 

W. L. She it is, of lineage noble as thine own, and 
yonder house does that sweet maid enfold! 

P. Oh blessed words! 

W. L. Yet valiant knight, beware! Thine ancient 
enemy draws near, even he, accursed, who slew thy 



14 



honored sire, and behind him is a dark, an evil shape. 
They bode thee harm, and ere thy life and love are Isa- 
bella's own, much sorrow must thou know, and cruel 
fate subdue. No more! My lips are sealed. Adieu, 
Pietro, bear thee valiantly. Nay, touch me not, nor 
follow. I the summons hear that calls me hence. 
Trust me. In time of need I come again. Adieu, 
and fare thee well. (Exit I.) 

P. Thanks, gentle spirit. Now I go to pray be- 
fore the sacred shrine, and then, all tenderly, to sere- 
nade the lady of my love. (Exit I.) 

(Enter Rodrigo and Diavolo. D. croiiching.) 

R. So, so! The troubadour, and spirit aid! And 
he, poor weakling, will to her aspire, the aim of all the 
gallants of Seville, and triumph over me, Rodrigo! 
Never! His sire I slew and quailed not; his mother 
wept before me, and on bended knee besought my 
mercy for the bleeding foe. I cursed her, spurned her. 
Heaven! before mine eyes I see her fainting form! 
No more ! I will this stripling crush, and by the fiend, 
I and none other shall the lady wed, and break her 
strong, proud spirit. Don Rodrigo, I, ruler of broad 
lands, and of the Lady Isabella. It sounds well! 
Diavolo, weave here thine evil spell: curses on him, 
and blight the veiled form that plots our ruin! 

D. (Gives demoniac laugh. Crouches still lower ^ 
draws circle, muttering strange words, and inside draws 
strange -figures. Concludes incantation with another 
horrible laugh.) The spell is cast! (Throws up arms, 
then crouches, and crawls out, followed triumphantly 
by R. L) 

(Enter Pietro.) 



IS 



PIETRO (Sings to guitar.) 
SERENADE 
Sad was the weary day, 

Endless the night, 
Till thy dark eyes met mine 

With starry light: 
Hear then my suppliant cry, 

Sweet Rose of Spain, 
Let not my fond heart die 

In anguish vain. 
Refrain. 
Isabella, hear my vow 

Thy knight to be, 
Ever through trials sore 

I serve but thee! 
(Isabella appears on the balcony, Duenna in window.) 
Brightly the golden sun 

Follows the night; 
So on my saddened soul, 

Shines thy soul's light; 
Hear then my longing cry, 

Sweet Rose of Spain, 
Teach me, else let me die, 

Thy love to gain! 

(Repeat rejrain.) 
ISABELLA (Sings.) 

Sweet, oh brave troubadour. 

Sounds thy soft lay. 
Piercing the sombre night. 

As moonlight's ray, — 
Gently upon the breeze, 

Hope's joys to bear 
Cast I this fragrant rose. 

Messenger fair ! 
i6 



p. (Kissing the rose.) I thank thee, noble lady! 
Wilt thou but deign one word of greeting to him who 
would serve thee on bended knee? 

I. Thou art bold, Sir Troubadour, but thy song 
has been sweet to mine ear. Who art thou? 

P. Pietro di Alvarez, in whose veins flows noblest 
blood of Spain. Outside the cathedral did I see thy 
sweet face, and my heart stood still with joy. Surely 
thou dost remember the young knight who stood pale 
and speechless as his gaze met thine? 

I. Yes, I remember well. 

P. Never before have I thought tenderly of mortal 
maid, but now all else is vain but dreams of thee. 
"Isabella," sighs the wind, and the birds sing, * 'Isa- 
bella," while all my soul is one glad song of joy, that 
this, our earth, should hold so fair a vision. 

I. Thy words must touch my heart! Yet all un- 
worthy, I, of such true homage, and I fear, — But nay! 
Through my heart, too, flow noblest strains of Spanish 
blood, and, Sir Knight, I proudly say, I thank thee! 
Yet no more. I must reflect! 

D. {Inside.) Donna Isabella, do I not hear thy 
father's footsteps? 

I. 'Tis my faithful nurse and friend. I go! Adieu, 
brave knight. 

P. Grant me but this, — to-morrow night, at this 
same hour, I may see thee once again. 

I. I will not say thee nay, but — 

D. Donna Isabella! Donna Isabella! 

I. I come! {Exit through window.) 

P. Sweet maid, good night! My heart leaps high 
with joy, and all the world seems music self-expressed. 

{Exit /— , playing.) 



17 



(Re-enter Isabella.) 
I. {Sings,) 

Isabella, Rose of Spain, 

Sweet sounds the name, 
Yet would my longing soul 

Words dearer claim! 
Queen of our fair Seville, 

Brave gallants cry. 
While to one noble heart. 

Love's queen am I. 

(Speaks,) Ah, well, — a gallant youth, and tender 
words. Mine eyes are filled with tears, and I would 
fain dream o'er his song. (Starts.) Who goes there ? 
(D, crawls to foot oj balcony, I. stands up in fear.) 

D. (Risings but never to full height.) Fair lady 
Isabella (half mocking) a pleasant evening, is it not, 
and one well suited for soft sighs of love! (Laughs.) 

I. What meanest thou? 

D. Thy words sound well, sweet lady (sneering) 
but what says this broidered scarf beneath thy win- 
dow with the word Pietro? Nay, start not, — 'tis a 
pretty youth, to one who sees but with a casual glance, 
to those who know^ a different tale that smiling visage 
tells. 

I. I trust thee not! 

D. Nay, not so fast, proud lady. List to me. 
Who is this Pietro ? A scoundrel, a knave, a flaunting 
hypocrite, who seeks thy gold! Ay, crumbling stand 
the walls of his ancestral home; he would rebuild 
them, he, the cowardly, the shamefaced troubadour, 
not by his good sword and manly prowess, but with 
the dower of noble bride. Art not convinced? I 



i8 



swear to thee he boasts among companions even worse 
than he, that by his songs, his soft and loving words, 
he wins thy gold, and wins thy heart. (Laughs.) 
And then woe be to thee, sweet Rose of fair Seville! 

I. (Aside.) I doubt, but I know not. If this be 
true! (Aloud.) Why do you tell me this? 

D. To save the Rose of our loved city, and be- 
cause I, even I, have a heart that feels for youth and 
sorrow. (Laughs aside sneeringly.) Lady, I serve 
a knight who is the fitting mate for thee, Rodrigo, 
bold of arm and strong of heart. He loves thee and 
with love his spirit bums! He dare not face thee, he, 
who singly overthrew ten Saracens in gallant combat, 
and, unarmed, o'erpowered a lion on the desert sands. 
I come as herald here. He offers thee broad lands, gold, 
jewels for thy brow and hands, his titles, and of all 
the greatest, this: "Ruler of Rodrigo's heart!" Love 
my master, please him, spurn this petty boy, and win 
thy place as Queen of all the revels of Seville! And 
this I give as guerdon of my faith. (Tosses a jewel 
and crawls away.) 

I. Oh powers of good! What truth or falsehood 
lurks in yonder evil shape ! I know not whom to trust, 
whom to believe. That gallant, courteous knight 
whose words e'en now are ringing through my heart, 
has touched my soul! But seeks he gold? What is 
this? (Takes up jewel.) A ruby, and my birth stone! 
But what fiery gleams, — they tell of evil, of enchant- 
ment. O have pity. Heavenly powers, and reveal 
to me the truth! 

Kneels. 

Curtain. 

End of Act L 



19 



ACT II 

Isabella's Boudoir. Isabella asleep on couch. Enter 
White Lady. 

W. L. {Approaching couch.) She sleeps, the Rose 
of Seville sleeps, the fairest maid in sunny Spain's 
broad land. Oh Isabella, all my heart seeks thine, and, 
spirit though I be, I love thee with the tenderness of 
mortal mother. Listen, and in dreams receive the 
truth. Thy grandsire wooed me, and him I fain had 
wed, but cruel fate said nay. Meekly I yielded to the 
stern decree that bound me to another, but within 
two years Death called me hence. Yet still I guard 
the fortunes of the house that once was mine. 

Thou hast thy grandsire' s brow, his soft dark eyes, 
beneath thy ebon lashes. Might I but kiss thee {bends 
but starts back.) Nay, mortal may not endure the touch 
of spirit lips. Maiden, mark well the warning I who 
love thee give. Two wooers seek thy hand; the one, 
Pietro, a noble knight, is blameless as the sun, the soul 
of purity, the child of honor. With him shalt thou this 
earth life tread as but a pathway to the realms above. 
The other is a black, a desperate soul. Behind him 
lurks an evil shape, dark and distorted. Beware! 
Rodrigo's hands are stained with innocent blood! 
His heart is black with crime, he mocks at love! {Isa- 
bella shows by jace and changing attitude the different 
emotions produced by speech of W. L.) 

Wed Pietro, Isabella, and find peace. A proof I 
give thee, for that power is mine. Upon thy forehead, 
hidden by thy dusky hair, I make a cross. BeUeve 
it, maiden, for it speaks the truth. Sleep sweetly now. 
Farewell! May happiness be thine! {Exit I.) 



I, (Waking slowly.) Is it a dream? Has some 
good spirit come to help my suffering heart? That 
tender voice has calmed my soul's distress. But oh, 
I fear the evil, mocking face of that strange visitant 
who came before. (Goes to glass, raises her hair.) 
The sign! The sign! Oh Heaven be praised! (Falls 
back on couch.) 

DUENNA (Without.) Donna Isabella! (/. rises.) 
(entering) Dear child, thou seemest pale and sad. 
Methinks too sweet thou found the strains of that 
young gallant's soft guitar. Perchance I best had 
called thee hence. 

I. Nay, friend, and yet in truth my mind is half 
distraught. Still must I well beheve that perfect 
peace shall some day fill my soul. What sound is 
that ? (Rises.) 

(Enter Rodrigo, followed by D.) 

R. (Kneels.) (D. laughs aside). Sweet maid, I, 
champion of Seville, Rodrigo, ever brave and valiant, 
offer thee my knightly homage. 

I. Sir! How hast thou entered this, my father's 
house ? 

R. (rising.) What minion dare gainsay Rodrigo ? 
Such a one would I, all ruthless, strike to earth. I, 
the mighty conqueror, brook no rebuff! But to thee, 
fair Rose, I bend the knee. Thee do I love, and thou 
shalt be Rodrigo's queen, and rule his heart. (7. 
moves away.) Nay, tremble not. The word is said; 
thou shalt be mine! Thy hand I clasp — thou may'st 
not draw away. (D. starts, but jails back in jear at 
menace of Diavolo.) Thy lips I kiss (/. struggles, screams, 
and bejore he can kiss her, Pietro rushes in with drawn 
sword.) 



21 



p. Caitiff! (Strikes with flat of sword.) I brand 
thee craven! I challenge thee to single combat, 
and I pray for Heaven's vengeance on the blackened 
soul of him who slew my father, and insults the sacred 
lady of my heart's pure love! 

(They fight. R. slowly retreats. P. presses on^ when 
Diavolo, rushing in, gives him a vicious thrust with 
a dagger. P. staggers hack, pursued by R. and jails. 
I. faints. Duenna rushes out, screaming. W. L. glides 
in swiftly, r., confronting R, and D.) 

W. L. {With upraised arms.) Help, Powers of 
good! {R. and D. crawl shrinkingly away, I. W. L, 
leans over P. drawing him up as by mesmeric power.) 

W. L. Pietro, courage, all shall yet be well. Fol- 
low me, and learn of happier fate. (Exit r. followed 
haltingly by P. I. alone on stage.) 

Curtain to soft music. 

End of Act II. 



22 



ACT 111 

Street before the balcony, as in Act I. Night. 
Enter gypsies sojtly, led by queen. 
Q. To-night, before this very door, will come 
deciding issue of our loved one's fate. Dream on, 
Isabella, till the dreaded hour is here. 
CHORUS. LULLABY 

Sullen clouds the moon are hiding. 

Sleep, lady fair. 
Darker night o'er thee is lowering. 

All unaware; 
Fear not, for thy guardian angel 
Draweth near, yet more near, 
When thy heart cries out in anguish. 
Help is here. 
Help is here! 
Q. A footstep! 'Tis Pietro. Conceal yourselves, 
and wait. 

{Gypsies withdraw silently.) 
{Enter P. to music of rejrain of his first songy but not 
singing.) 

P. To-night, the friendly spirit tells, comes the last 
trial, but I know not in what fearful guise. Oh Isa- 
bella, may the kindly fates attend, and bless our love. 
Beneath thy window do I lay me down, that e'en in 
sleep I may thy guardian be. {Wraps himself in 
cloak and lies down. Dim light and soft music, grow- 
ing suddenly harsh.) 

{Enter Rodrigo and Diavolor.) 
R. What have we here? Pietro, and asleep! 
Accursed boy, he smiles, and murmurs "Isabella!" 
That dream shall be his last! {Draws sword and 



23 



stands over P.^ D. exulting behind him.) Last of thy 
race. Rodrigo's hand shall send thee — 
{Bright light, Isabella rushes from house.) 
I. Coward! (Throws arms around P. who springs 
to his jeet.) Pietro, I love thee, and know Rodrigo 
base, base as that evil thing that crawls aside, exulting 
in his fiendish spells! 

(R. rushes at P., but checks himselj at sight oj W. 
L. who enters from back and stands between.) 
R. Foiled! (Stabs himself and falls.) 
D. (With horrible laugh,) One more soul for my 
master! (Crawls away.) (Enter gypsies.) 

W. L. Dead lies the villain, and his evil course 

is run! Farewell, Pietro, gallant, faithful knight, and 

thou, sweet Isabella, Rose of fair Seville! I go, but 

only to await thy coming to a happier world than this. 

(Withdraws singing.) (Rises, if possible.) 

Peace above compare awaits me, 

Joys beyond earth's brightest dream; 
Pearly gates, now swift unfolding. 

Show the softly murmuring stream, 
On whose banks, in endless glory. 

Spirits meet in mystic light. 
And the weary, world-worn toiler, 
Rises, free from earth's dark night. 
Chorus of invisible spirits, softly repeat, 
PIETRO. Spirit, farewell, 
Endlessly free, 
Borne on love's pinions 
Far from our sight; 
Ever thy memory 
Cherished shall be. 
While realms enfold thee 
Of perfect light ! 

, 24 



CHORUS. GYPSIES 

Down from the height of Heavenly blue 

An angel guardian swiftly flew, 

The hearts she loved, with tender care 

To shield and guard 'gainst every snare, 

To calm and comfort, help and cheer. 

Oh, well-beloved, ever near. 

Bend o'er us here! 

Away, away, on pinions bright. 
To perfect peace in radiant light, 
Where sorrow's darkest dream is o'er, 
Where love divine reigns evermore; 
And there thy alw^ays tender care. 
Oh, well beloved, us shall bear 
By fervent prayer! 
PIETRO to Isabella. 

Isabella, Rose of Spain, 

I serve but thee. 
Ever my vow keep I, 
Thy knight to be! 
ISABELLA. 

Brave Pietro, knight of mine, 

Blessed by true love 
Earth's path is but the road 
To peace above! 
I., P., Q. AND CHORUS. 

Faithful, constant hearts of Spain, 

Blessed by true love. 
Earth's path is but the road 
To peace above! 

Tableau. 
Curtain. 



25 



Poems 



SLUMBER SONG 

For one who helps hear the world^s burdens. 

Sleep, weary eyes, 
(For the south wind is sighing;) 

Stay, tender smile, 
(Night's dark hours are flying:) 
All through the day has love's service been given, 
Heart, mind, and lips for the world's good have striven; 
Sleep, oh beloved, the stars shine above you, 
Dream, oh beloved, who love as we love you, 
Dream, while the south wind is sighing. 

Summer's sun woos you, 

Brilliantly shining. 
Soft breezes soothe you. 

Heart's truth divining; 
Velvet bees hover, 

Ceaselessly humming, 
O'er the rich clover. 
Blessed by your coming. 
And the glad summer, what may she give you. 
Give for remembrance you may not forget? 
Lowly and tender, 
Delicate, slender. 
Take August's treasure, the sweet mignonette. 

Rest, tired hands, 
(For the cricket is singing;) 

Sleep, weary soul, 
(While swift moments are winging;) 
Through your true kindness sweet smiles have arisen. 
Souls, worn with earth, have aspired to Heaven; 



29 



Sleep, oh beloved, the sky spreads above you, 
Dream, oh beloved, all know you to love you, 
Dream, till day's light is upspringing. 

Autumn woods call you, 

Indian's summer 
Scarlet and yellow 

Greets the new comer; 
Leaves falling softly 

Sing as they fly, 
"Living was giving, 
Death needs no sigh." 
And the bright autumn, what may she give you. 
Give for remembrance of deep azure sky? 
Calm and undying, 
Stem front defying, 
Take the fringed gentian, where faith's beauties lie 

Come, perfect peace, 
(For the snow is down-falling;) 

Rest, gentle heart, 
(The frost fairies are calling;) 
You who have served must have service undying, 
Angels watch o'er you, on snowy wings flying: 
Sleep, oh beloved, the white snow above you, 
Dream, oh beloved, for spirits pure love you^ 
Dream, while the snow is down-falling. 

Winter's frost calls you. 

Sparkling and beaming, 
Winter's snow beckons, 

Spotlessly gleaming; 
Cedar and hemlock, 



3P 



Green 'gainst the sky, 
Teach their grand lesson, 
Life may not die. 
And the cold winter, what may he bring you, 
Bring for remembrance undying and true? 
Bright through all sorrow, 
Fearless of morrow, 
Take the gay holly that greets you anew. 

Sleep, weary eyes, 
(For the green boughs are swaying;) 

Stay, tender smile, 
(The marsh meteors are playing;) 
Slumber is sweet when to weary souls given, 
Sweeter the rest that is found in high Heaven; 
Sleep, oh beloved, for God is above you, 
Dream, oh beloved, He ever will love you 
Dream, while night's hours are staying. 

Spring's verdure woos you, 

Emerald, tender. 
Pink-tinted wind flowers. 

Dewy cups render; 
Soft moss all jeweled 

Lies at your feet, 
Cherry and willow 
Breathe odors sweet. 
And the dear springtime, what may she give you 
Give for remembrance you may not forget ?j 
Gem e'er upspringing, 
Love's message bringing, 
Take fair May's treasure, the sweet violet. 



31 



EDOUARD 

The blue waves gently come and go, 

The soft sand shines 'neath glowing sun, 
And o'er the tiny blossoming isle 

Is heard the winged insects' hum; 
While, worn and stained, a darkened stone 

Alone upstands from grassy bed. 
And on it, half by moss o'ergrown. 

Is traced memorial of the dead: 
*'Edouard, vingt-et-un." 

"Marie, Marie, je viens bientdt 

Et tout ton coeur fidele je sais!" 
The sailor cried, and bold and free, 

Turned from his native land away. 
La pauvre Marie! With streaming eyes 

She watched the bark fade from her sight, 
And felt the cruel pangs that rise 

In hearts deep filled with sorrow's blight, 
Edouard, vingt-et-un. 

''Bien aim6! je t'attends toujours!" 

Within her soul rose hourly cry. 
But day by day the fading hope 

Grew less as time sped swiftly by. 
Oh! never more the sailor boy 

Came back to her whose joy was gone. 
Yet naught might e'er her love destroy 

For him whose soul from hers was torn, 
Edouard, vingt-et-un. 



3a 



The pitying hands of strangers made 

His grave, when wind and sea were still, 
And carved above his peaceful head — 

Some future purpose to fulfil — 
The words that sweet Marie had wrought 

On silken kerchief, plain and fair. 
Which, clasped upon his faithful breast 

They found with tress of golden hair, 
"Edouard, vingt-et-un." 

U Envoi 

Oh the love that gives, and the love that seeks 

Must ever troubled be, 
Till the day when the earth gives up its dead, 

And its countless hordes, the sea; 
Then we who have loved, and we who have lost, 

In a life of peace begun. 
May live and love through the endless day, 

As sweet Marie, now at rest for aye, with 
''Edouard, vingt-et-un." 



33 



FLOWER SONG 

Blossoms deep-hued in rich summer's completeness, 
Bring we to show all our heart's tender care: 

Loving words, looks, may not vie with their sweetness, 
Nor with their greeting of peace may compare. 

Singer and friend — whom its mystical story 
Draws to the heart of the blossoming rose, 

Take for your own in the midsummer glory 
Velvet-leaved Jacqueminot, fairest that blows. 

Heart ever faithful, whom long years of parting 
Left all unchanged, always noble and true. 

In the rich depths of the crimson carnation 
Lie the sweet thoughts that I cherish of you. 

Yellow day lilies — oh dreamer and minstrel, 
Up from the throng for a moment you rose, 

Told your brave message — then down from the height 
fell, 
Dragged by the chains that the earth's toils impose. 

Never again, through the blushing wild roses, 
O'er the sweet fern scented path shall we tread; 

You whose true sympathy Heaven encloses. 
Lie 'neath the violets, earth's heart your bed. 

He with grave eyes whose deep Heavenly insight 
Told of a world beyond sorrow or pain. 

Stands for all time by the white Easter HHes, 
Stainless and pure as his thrice-honored name. 



34 



Dear, for all time will my heart know its longing; 

Ever I hope, and yet ever regret: 
Yet we shall meet, when God's daylight is dawning. 

And, for your flower, I bring mignonette. 

So when Death's angel my life's bonds shall sever, 
Bearing me hence, where our loved ones are met, 

For that dear soul, now from earth gone forever, 
Lay in my hands, at the last, mignonette. 

LIFE AND DEATH 

A gray mist hovers o'er the sea. 

Hushed are the waves, no murmurs rise 
From sunless shore, and blossoming lea 

Beneath night's sombre shadow lies, — 
While I, Dear Heart, with outstretched arms, 

Send all my yearning soul to thee, 
And hear the night bird shrilly call 

And see day's last faint radiance flee. 

Beloved, on Death's mystic shore, 

Dost thou now stand, in shining light, 
And watch the mounting sunbeams soar 

That drive away the shades of night, — 
And see, with perfect vision blest. 

My stricken heart for aid implore, 
And know, in happiness complete. 

That Hope, Life, Love, last evermore? 



35 



MARY STUART'S PRAYER 

''O Domine Deus," 

The vesper bell calls, 

As a queenly form kneels 

On the worn chapel floor; 

While the mantle of night, 

With its sombre shade, falls, 

As Mary's sad voice 

Breathes her prayer o'er and o'er, 

"Speravi in te, 

O care mi Jesu, 

Nunc libera me!" 

A silence; the queen, in a dream, sees her youth. 
When honor and duty knew love's perfect truth; 
Then Francois, the king, in his gay land of France, 
Wooed his fair Scottish bride with each heart-tender 

glance. 
And the sunny fields glowed with the fruit of the vine. 
While the glad maidens sang as they pressed out the 

wine. 

"In dura catena, 

In misera poena 

Desidero te." 
A shudder — and darkly before her arise 
The dim-lighted halls; she hears Rizzio's cries! 
See — his blood stains the floor! Oh, ghastly the sight! 
And she shuts her sad eyes, their shocked vision to 

blight; 
The dread days roll on, and poor prisoner, she 
In court nor in castle may never be free; 
No fond, faithful heart may her weary life share, 

36 



And the queen's soul is wrung by the pangs of despair, 
While Franfois, the king, and his gay land of France, 
Seem a vision of youth, or a long-lost romance. 

"Languendo, gemendo, 
Et genuflectendo, 
Adoro, imploro, 
Ut liberes me!" 
Oh the sorrow and pain, 

Oh the anguish of years! 
'Neath the queen's sweet, sad eyes 

Lie the furrows of tears. 
And the roses' faint tint 

On her delicate face 
Has long since been lost 

In the white lilies' grace; 
No more dreams of the past! 

What may earth life avail? 
Her thoughts leave the world 

And its fond visions pale; 
To her Heavenly Lord 

For His comfort she cries. 
And the pain leaves her voice 

And the anguish her eyes. 
Now His love all divine 

By His grace, to her gives 
Strength to bear life's hard woe 

Through each long day she lives; 
And when Death comes at last, 

God's all-pitying care 
Holds her safe in His peace, 

As she breathes her last prayer. 



37 



Gone the vision of Francois, the king of gay France, 
Gone the torturing wraiths of her deeds of mischance i 
Adown through the ages the trembhng lips pray; 
"Adoro, imploro — Ut liberes me!" 

REGRET 

Gone — and the world moves on 

With laugh, and song, and jest, 
In its outpoured joy, and its silent woe, 

With you. Dear, safe at rest; 
And we, now left in anguish vain, 

Who need you, miss you, mourn you so, 
Can only bow our heads in pain. 

And trust our love you know. 

Gone — and the tale untold; 

Sweet friend, so close, so dear, 
A gift I held that to you belonged, 

But I kept it back through fear; 
And now must I ever stand and wait. 

With outstretched arms, and yearning eyes, 
Till Death unbars the golden gate 

And we meet in Paradise. 

Gone — and I naught can give; 

Bright soul, from purer sphere 
Bend gently down your starry eyes, 

And send a message here: 
Some day, somewhere, shall I see you stand 

With sliining robes, in radiant light; 
But now, I, weary, wait below. 

And the daylight seems less bright! 



3S 



ATTAINMENT 

* Which is better — realization j or an ideal?'* 
We love — how bitter sweet 

The tender thought, 
When breathed in mortal ear; — 
E'en though with reverence sought, 
And held in honor dear. 
A change — eyes may not meet, 

And love is naught. 

Or, blessed in friendship's ties 

We onward go, 
Content with earthly care, 
And comfort that we know. 
When, followed by our prayer, 
Death's angel bids one rise, 

Leaves one below. 

At peace, my troubled heart, 

Forevermore. 
No pang of grief nor woe. 
No moan of anguish sore. 
Nor shaft from cruel foe. 
May pain, with ruthless smart, 

As once of yore. 

To thee, unknown in life, 

Yet always near. 
Who never spoken word 
Of all thy influence here 
Nor guiding hand hast heard, — 
Now, free from earthly strife, 

My love is dear. 



39 



Oh Friend, now in the vast 

Eternity, 
No shrouding mist may veil 
My heart from thee. 
Nor earthly shadow pale, 
Through fear, now long since past, 

My love for thee. 

Alone, in calm and peace, 

I lift my eyes, 
Thy perfect, deathless love, 
Within my soul now lies; 
Safe, blessed, in realms above. 
Thy help will never cease 

In Paradise. 

IN SPRING 

Smiling, you spoke my name; 

If Fate denies that more your face I see. 

Some sunny mom, beneath the springtide green 

Of budding tree boughs, on yon mossy bank. 

Starred o'er with violet and anemone. 

And gold-flecked with the beams of shining light, 

Before me will arise, all glorified 

Your loving eyes, and I shall hear again 

My name, and see once more your tender smile. 



40 



MIGNONETTE 

Home — for the night dews rise gray o'er the meadows, 

The way has been long, and the red sun has set; 
The child's eyelids close, as a kind arm enfolds her, 
While the weary head droops, glad all thought to 
forget; 

And it's *Tast, Kitty Clover," 
And, "Speed, Kitty Clover," 
As the good bay hastes on,wish by guiding wish met, — 
And it's "Home for my dearie, where, for the wee 
rover 
I've planted a garden with sweet mignonette 1" 

Home — for the shadows rise darkly before me, 
Life's road has been long, eyes with tears have been 
wet: 
Though my weary head droop, no kind arm may en- 
fold me, 
Earth's sun for that dear heart forever has set. 
No more, "Fast, Kitty Clover," 
And, "Speed, Kitty Clover," 
The good bay long since paid life's all-seeking debt; 
But it's "Home though a wanderer, home though a 

rover. 
While in my wee garden still blooms mignonette!" 

Where is the heart- ache, the pain, the deep anguish? 

Where are the woes no joy serves to forget? 
I am a child again, lost in my dreaming, 

In that fair garden, whose bloom lingers yet. 



41 



Let not despair show its threatening shadow, 
Let no more tears my long-saddened eyes wet; 

Why should I mourn over vanishing sorrow, 
While, in Love's garden, still blooms mignonette? 

TO SARAH ORNE JEWETT 
After re-reading *'The Country of the Pointed Firs.'^ 

New England's pastures, spicy with sweet fern, 
Her sea, whose murmur thrills our northern shores, 
Her hills, whose rocks daunt not the gentle sheep, 
Her dusty roads, with rose and elder fringed. 
The old time mansions^ whose broad halls once held 
The flower of our colonial chivalry, 
The village parlor, sunless, dark, severe, — 
New England's people, to the casual eye, 
Reserved and cold, to those who understand 
Filled with the thought of loving sacrifice,— 
Greet one who knows their truth; who, to the world, 
Reveals the hidden soul that in them lies, — 
Who shows New England, regnant, at her best, 
New England's child, who to her mother gives 
The reverence and love that is her due. 
But to them adds the heart that understands, 
And to the world, her golden treasury, 
The heritage of knowledge high and true, 
Outpours in generous flood, that all may share 
Her birthright, rich beyond all gold or gems. 



42 



THE SIRENS 

Through the misty, golden twilight 
Sways and swings the murmuring sea. 

Purple waves, with white foam crested, 
Rise and fall unceasingly. 

On the distant rocky headland 

Stand the fateful sisters three: 
Dark the locks that deeply shadow 

Sweet eyes, veiled with mystery. 

Half- unwilling, half- compelling, 

Filled with soft, sad melody 
Sound the strains seductive, luring 

Man from earthly joys to flee. 

Sadder grow the haunted faces. 

Sweeter, more entrancingly 
Swells the lay. Oh, who the victims, 

Mortals, or the sisters three, — 

Helpless, doomed, forever seeking, 
Knowing what their fate must be, 

Gaining naught, e'en by fulfilment, 
Hopeless for eternity? 

Hark! Still ever nearer wafted. 

Comes the sirens' song to me. 
List the words, half-dreamed, half-fancied, 

Sweeping o'er the restless sea. 



43 



The Song 

Mortal, whose yearning 

No earth joys may fill, 
With life's passions burning, 
Life's deep sorrows spuming. 

Come to us, seek us, 
Thy longing declare. 

Find sweet rest among us. 
And calm thy despair 
By the bliss we will share. 

Mortal, our cadence 

None earth-bom may leam, 
Mystic in utterance. 
Sweet beyond sufferance, — 

Come to us, seek us. 
Dare fate while you may. 

Forgetting among us 
The garish-hued day. 
While in sea caves we play. 

Hear our entreating! 

Earth's sorrows shall cease 
In the bliss of our meeting. 
But joy's notes are fleeting. 

Come to us, seek us, 
But, mortal, no more 

When your soul rests among us 
Claim Heaven's fair shore. 
You our doom must endure! 



44 



THE CARDINAL FLOWER 

Crimson the regal cardinal flower, 

Rose by the stream; 
Pride of the noonday's golden hour, 
Child of midsummer's fairest dream, 

Beauty its dower. 

She who a queenly throne would adorn, 

Stood by the flower; 
In dusky depths of her sweet eyes borne 
Rested the tale of a heart's grand power, 

Happiness gone. 



Sadly were arched, in tremulous grace. 

Lips ever true; 
Suffering's marks on the noble face 
Showed that life's wounds were always new,- 

Vivid their trace. 

Gently she lifted the royal spray. 

Claiming her own; 
"Not through the sun's too piercing ray. 
Nor bitter wind be death's arrow known, 

Love smooths thy way." 

Never again such honor to thee. 

Cardinal flower! 
Safe from the cruel world lies she. 
Made by Death's mighty, conquering power. 

Endlessly free! 



45 



A CHRISTMAS SONG 
The Old French Nurse sings 

Dormez, donnez, chere mere heureuse, 
Thy little one breathes sweet and low; 

To her the holy Christmas dawn 

Is life's first wonder-opening morn; 
Oh blessed child, enfant cherie, 
Sinless and pure, she comes to thee 
Who suffered, and, as Sainte Marie, 

Knew agony, then peace: 

Call her Marie I 

O jour mystfere! O jour de paix! 
The Heavenly King descends to earth; 

To Him the sacred Christmas morn 

Brings bitter woe, for mankind borne: 
Oh happy child! the Saviour's birth 
Gives thee glad hope, when from this earth 
Thy spirit, freed, shall seek its worth, 

And soars to realms above. 

Enfant Marie! 

Enfant et mere, dormez sans peur, — 
A holy peace surrounds thy bed: 

So slept the Virgin, free from care. 

Whose Heavenly Son our sins should bear; 
O chere petite, oh, mother true. 
What days of joy may come to you. 
If every hour with prayer anew 

You seek the Holy Son 

Of blessed Marie! 



46 



MARY EASTE 
Mary Easte was executed jor ■witchcrajt Sept. 22, 1692. 

The glowing autumn sun, the nodding wheat, 
Bright maples crowned with gleaming scarlet, all 
Made gay the smiling landscape, and cried, "Joy! 
The joy that nature gives her well-beloved." 
But for the town of Salem, once called Peace, 
In vain the beauty of New England's fall. 
A murky cloud before its people spread 
Both black and dense, vvith here a lurid gleam 
That showed sights better hid in deepest night,— 
While from its dark, distorted mass there came 
Loud moans of souls in bitterest agony: 
The town's afflicted children writhed in pain, 
And called on God, or told with shuddering tongue 
Tales of the Evil Spirit, who, they said. 
Was tempting them to lose their souls in Hell. 

"They are bewitched," the frightened neighbors cried, 
And, "Who is guilty?" ran from lip to lip; 
Then Horror filled the land, for names of those 
Beloved and honored by their fellow-men 
Came glibly from the swift accusing tongues 
Of suffering maidens, children still in years. 

"Nay, Goody Easte, I'll not sign the book — 
I'd rather take the coffin and the shroud. 
And lie, the prey of worms, beneath the sod," 
Shrieked Mercy Lewis, while Ann Putnam cried, 
"The witch now draws the cord around her neck 
And strangles Mercy Lewis. Yes, 'tis she! 
'Tis Goody Easte, who, by Satan's wiles 



47 



Is killing Mercy Lewis!" and straightway 
The others loudly cried, ''We see her, too! 
The witch is Goody Easte, and she seeks 
The soul of that poor maid!" 

Then messengers were sent, to quickly bring 
Before the court the witch accursed, whose art 
Had caused such frightful sufferings as these. 

A noble presence, Mary Easte stood 

Before her cruel foes. The passing years 

Had long since set their seal upon that face 

Serene with love and Christian charity. 

But strong in dignity, composed and grave; 

She looked upon the frowning, anxious court, 

The shrieking girls, their white-lipped, trembling friends, 

x\nd heard the fatal sentence. Then, at last, 

With sad, forgiving smile, she clearly spoke: — 

*T pray not for myself. My doom is sealed. 

And toward God's better world my thoughts are turned, 

But for those others, who, like me, must stand 

Before this court, — whose hearts like unto mine 

Are innocent of harm toward living soul, 

I beg for mercy and sweet charity. 

As I must die, in God's sight innocent 

Of these foul crimes — Oh, think of other souls 

Who follow me, and closely search their minds 

That not one heart whose thought is turned to good 

Shall suffer as I must!" 

A few short days, and Mary Easte's life 
Was ended on the height of Gallows Hill. 
She died — but others lived, and since that day 
Her name meets naught but purest reverence; 
Her noble words outlive the passing years. 

48 



AT BROOK FARM 

September's golden sun, 
The vivid green of autumn's grass, 
Bright barberries, and asters purple-hued, 
With frost flowers, snowy as the fleecy clouds. 
Make beautiful the spot where once they lived 
Who swayed New England's mental life, 
x\nd showed her heritage. 

And now — but names — 

The place they knew and loved 

Is changed unspeakably. 

The little brook still murmurs low, 

The south wind sighs, but they are gone, 

And wait, perchance, for kindred souls. 

Who, still aspiring, onward strive with them. 

FORGET-ME-NOTS 

In tint of blue, the hue of cloudless sky, 
When earth and air are hushed in calm repose, 

Down by the brook, where tranquil shadows lie. 
The flowers of ti-ust, forget-me-nots, uprose. 

And now I see the water's silvery gleam 
Whose fringing alders edge the grassy plain, 

Where, as by friendship's sweetly restful stream, 
Unchanged, I seek forget-me-nots again. 



49 



VALENTINE 

Valentine, oh heart of mine, 

What may serve for sweet Love's wooing — 
Jacqueminot? Ah, Dearest, no, 
For the blush thy cheek doth show 

Shames the rose, its tint outdoing: 
Shall I seek the violet. 
With the dew of morning wet? 

Nay, oh nay, for in thine eyes 

Shines the light of azure skies, 

Deepened, through my heart's pursuing. 

Valentine, oh life of mine, 
For thy love my song is suing; 

Soft and low, ah, Dear one, so 

May my tender accents flow 
That they show my soul's well-doing: 

Such a greeting never yet 

Came from rose nor violet; 
Let me, in thy starry eyes. 
Read Love's truth without disguise — 
Hear my ardent heart's fond wooing! 

A VISION 

Soft air encompassed me, and radiant light, — 
Nor care nor pain my soul enraptured knew; 

Behind me lay the world in gloomy night. 
Before me stretched the ether's azure hue, 

And thou, Beloved, to my quickened sight, 

Uprose, in spotless white, toward Heaven's blue ! 



50 



P0T-POURRI 

Sandal and camphor wood, pride of the Tropics, 
Gossamer lace from Mechlin or Brussels, 

Quaint Chinese idols, dull brass of Benares, 
Deck the dark room where my quaint fancy dwelk. 

Pot-pourri, pot-pourri, 

Ashes of roses, 
Fragrant with spices, yet sweet with perfume, 
Tell me, oh tell me, where Love's gift reposes, 
Rose of Life's joy-day, the glory of June! 

Lotus and heliotrope, soul of the Indies, 

Poppies blood red 'neath the gold noontide sun, 

Snowy anemones, deep purple pansies. 
Brighten the spot where Love's song was begun. 

Pot-pourri, pot-pourri, 

Ashes of roses. 
Fated to die, and yet sweet in Death's doom. 
Tell me, oh tell me, where Love's joy reposes, 
Rose beyond roses, the pride of Life's noon! 



SI 



SONG 

O'er the hills the mist is sweeping, 

Dear, my own, — 
Dark and sunless lie the meadows 
Whence the last bright bird has flown, 
Like my life, sad vigil keeping, 

Dear, my own. 

Never may thy tender greeting 

Heart of mine. 
Fill my soul with untold gladness. 
As my loving eyes seek thine 
In a joyous earthly meeting, 

Heart of mine. 

But the bliss of earth is fleeting, 

Dear, my own, — 
Paradise, in radiant glory 
Holds thee, care henceforth unknown, 
And I trust — sharp pain defeating, 

Dear, my own. 



52 



QUEEN ANNE 

In storied days of yore, 

Queen Anne, 
Statesmen knelt at the touch of your fan; 
What cared the world for the heart of the man ? 

Addison, poHshed and cold. 

Swaggering Steele, and Swift overbold 
Knocked at Fame's half-open door, — 

While you, Queen Anne, 
Bent before her, whose far reaching plan 
Caused you, a sovereign, her grace to implore, 
Sarah of Marlborough, greedy for gold! 

Two hundred years ago, — 

Queen Anne, 
What to-day of that dainty fan ? 
Cares the world more for the heart of the man ? 

Sweeter stories are told, 

Gentler poets their hearts unfold. 
Life's chords are touched soft and low: 

And you, Queen Anne, 
Are but a name in Life's broader plan, 
Calling forth pity, though now we well know. 
Safe in Death's kingdom, your peace is untold ! 



53 



ROSE LEAVES 

White rose and blush rose, 
And sweet yellow Scotch rose, 

Rose veiled with moss, 

And the rich Jacqueminot, 
Spread forth their petals. 
Redolent, incensed, 
Sun-kissed and glowing, 
With nectarous depths, 
Singing June's carol, 
Glory of summer! 

"Oh to be living, living and loving! 
Sweetness and light are the bliss of to-day — 
What of to-morrow? No thought we borrow, 
Joy claims us now, for the now is alway!" 

White rose and blush rose. 
And sweet yellow Scotch rose, 

Graceful moss bud 

And the rich Jacqueminot, 
Cast forth their petals, 
Fluttering lightly, 
Tenderly odorous. 
Leaving their home 
Borne by soft zephyrs, 
Melody chanting: 

"You who were living, living and loving. 
Giving out sweetness, the bliss of joy's day, 

Though 'tis the morrow, naught may you sorrow, 
You gave heart's truth, and the truth lives alway!" 



54 



A FERN SONG 

Under the shimmering 

Dew of the morning, 
Ha If -hid by gauzy mist, 

Wait we day's dawning; 
Birds sing their roundelay, 

Heart to heart meeting, 
Glad sunbeams swiftly play, 

Earth's beauty greeting. 

Near the dim, shady path, 

By the blue river, 
L'nder the lichened rock, 

Green our fronds quiver, 
Light, graceful, cool and fair, 

DeHcate, turning 
Far from the noontide's glare 

With passion burning. 

Come to us, stay with us, 

Oh gentle maiden, 
Whose heart with loving dreams 

Deeply is laden. 
In thy dark, starry eyes 

Rests power, given 
To read the truth that lies 

In our life hidden. 

To thy sweet, dewy hps 

Hold us, all- knowing; 
Tell thy pure, spirit thoughts, 

Grand in their showing. 



55 



Loyal and faithful we, 

Sensitive, tender, — 
Never may friend to thee 

Higher gifts render. 

KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN 

"Kathleen Mavourneen," a sweet voice is singing, 

While the firelight gleams 

On the shining oak floor, 
And slender white hands from the spinet are bringing 
Melodious aid to the words glad and pure. 

And parents and lover 

Fond glances are changing 
Of joy in the singer, and joy in the song, 
And Hfe naught but hope, bhss and peace may discover, 
While pain seems a dream, and love endlessly long. 

"Kathleen Mavourneen," a sad voice is singing, 

While the dark shadows lie 

On the gloomy oak floor. 
And worn trembling hands from the spinet are bringing 
A weary refrain to the glad song of yore : 

Nor parent nor lover 

May hear soft entreating, 
None joys in the singer, none joys in the song, — 
And life naught but pain, loss and grief may discover, 
While love seems a dream, and death blissfully long. 



56 



THE MOSS ROSE 

Half awake, I'm dreaming; 

Visions light as air 
Float before my fancy, 

Delicately fair; 
One is ever constant, 

Fades, yet brighter grows, 
'Tis my thought's fair garden, 

And its sweet moss rose. 

Would you, in my garden, 

Seek for joy with me ? 
Snowy lilies swaying 

Gleam unceasingly; 
Violets nestle softly 

In their leaf nests green, 
Brilliant scarlet poppies 

O'er rich pansies lean ; 
But no fairer flower 

In my garden blows 
Than the half- veiled blossom 

Of the sweet moss rose. 

Heliotrope's deep purple 

Scents the quivering air. 
Scarlet trumpet climber 

Flaunts its glory there ; 
Holly hocks unbridled 

Lure the wandering bee, 
Velvety nasturtiums 

Bloom unceasingly; 
But the brightest flower 

That my fancy knows 

57 



May not hide the beauty 
Of the sweet moss rose. 

Half awake I'm dreaming 

Of my garden fair, 
Of my thought's dear garden 

Bright with flowers rare: 
Which is nearest, dearest ? 

Surely no one knows, 
Yet my heart would never 

Lose its sweet moss rose. 

FRIENDS 

''You understand?" ''Ah, no," 
The voice is kindly, but the eyes are cold : 

"It matters not," but lo 

The loving confidence is left untold, 

And the beseeching hand falls back in pain; 

Love's tender gift is sought, but sought in vain. 

Oh, why should it be so? 

For souls search blindly, though the world be old- 
Let human comfort flow 

To mortal hearts, who mortal sorrows hold. 
Lest the beseeching hand fall back in pain. 
And Love, too late, would give, when help is vain ! 



5« 



A YEAR AGO 

A year ago the fragrant breeze of May 

Cast down sweet petals, and the golden sun 

In brightness rose, while you, at dawning day, 
Passed to another world, earth's journey done. 

And now upon fair purple hills 

'Mid scented air earth may not know, 

Among white lilies' swaying leaves 
Do your unfaltering footsteps go? 

And are your eyes, once sad and pained, 
Now rapturous with glory's sight, 

And is your sweet and tender smile 
Transfigured with angelic light? 

A year ago in sorrow and deep woe. 

We brought our tribute to your loving heart ; 

And now, in peace, for God's best gift you know, 
We bring, with reverent souls, the better pan, 

And oh, from realms of glorious light, 

Beside the sea of blessed calm, 
In radiant robes of purity, 

Send forth your spirit's healing balm 
To those, who, struggling, failing here. 

Still seek your peace, perfected, true, 
And loving, trusting, through all time, 

Reach out, with ceaseless hope, to you. 



59 



THE CHICKADEE 

As I strayed in the woods, a soft gray bird 
With tiny black cap, came nodding to me; 
And as I looked up at his impudent chirp, 
He gave a loud, merry, 

''Chick-a-dee-dee!" 
And forth came his cousins, his uncles and aunts. 
His father and mother, and grandparents, too. 
Who, looking at me with inquiring glance. 
Began a discussion distressingly true. 

"He-he-he-he-oh-chick-a-dee-dee — 
Who is this strange being we've come here to see? 

Why, she wears a white hat! 

An old one, at that! 
Just look at the rim, where the starch was too thin I 

Chee-chee-chee-chee — 

Can such shocking taste be?'* 
And that's their opinion of me! 

'*He-he-he-he-oh-chick-a-dee-dee — 

Behold that short skirt! 

Well, I'm sure she's no flirt. 
To wear shoes Hke those, with half worn out toes ; 

And that waist! do you see 

That it green used to be. 

And now has turned yellow. 

Like breast of barn swallow ? 

Chee-chee-chee-chee — 

What a goose she must be!" 
And that's their opinion of me! 

"He-he-he-he-oh-chick-a-dee-dee 
What! write did you say? 
Why, you're only in play! 

60 



Do you think that in verse she'll our doings rehearse? 

With those things on her nose, 

Who could write, pray disclose? 

What she wants, I don't know: 

I should say one word, 'Go!'" 
And away they all flew, while the sound fainter grew, 

''Chee-chee-chee-chee — 

Don't you wish you were we?" 
And that's their opinion of me! 

A FRIEND 

Where were you in those misty days beyond our ken, 
When on this earth the wintiy wind or summer sun 

Beheld us not, — 
And when by mortal ear our names had ne'er been 

heard ? 
In truth I would not think that once the time had been 
When you to me were naught: for as my trusting soul 
Believes in yours to-day, so through the ages past 
Would I a friendship trace that makes the present time 
Renewal, not new birth, and strengthens in the thought. 

And as the earth life dies, may we still further know 
That in God's purer sphere what is and was shall be 
Throughout all time ! 



6i 



QUEEN ANNE'S LACE 

Out from the court, where stately lord and dame 
Bedecked with flowered silk and 'broidered scarf 
Held formal converse, — to New England came 

A great earl's daughter, graced in courtesy, 
Of ancient lineage and noble name, 
Well versed in talk and manners of the town, 

But ignorant of wood and flowery lea. 

Oh she was loving, timid, yet queenly, 
Many a gallant had knelt at her feet; 

Blue were her eyes as the depths of the sapphire. 
Gold was her hair, for a coronet meet; 

Who could but love her, who could but serve her. 
Fair Lady Isabel, tender and sweet ? 

The unaccustomed voyage, at last, was o'er; 

She loved the sea, with blue-tinged, crested waves^ 

But gladly turned her face toward the shore, 

Where lay a future, new and all untried. 
An unknown world, whose sunny meadows bore 
Strange flowers for the child of court and town, 

And land and ocean in rich colors vied. 

Oh she was loving, and the bright beauty 
Filled all her soul with a reverence new; 

Pink were her cheeks as the bud of the wild rose. 
Glowed her sweet eyes as the violet blue; 

Who could but love her, who could but serve her. 
Dear Lady Isabel, constant and true? 

Perchance the simple life outweighed the old, — 
We know not; but methinks there sometimes fell 
On that fair spirit an unrest, as cold 
And clear the icy days of winter came, 
Chilling all beauty that would dare unfold; 

62 



Ah, then she sighed for sunny days of yore, 

The Queen, the court life, — and one whispered name! 

Oh she was loving, loyal and tender. 

What e'er the new, toward the old turned her face; 

E'en in the sunshine, 

Fond dreams would hover 
O'er her old home life, its splendors to trace; 

And in remembrance, 

All unforgetting. 
Chose she a flower, white, feathery, pure. 

That to her sad heart 

Served to discover 
Some of the beauty of lost days of yore; 
Who could but love her, who could but serve her. 
Fair Lady Isabel, dainty and sweet ? 
Though gone forever, still her dear flower 
Grows in the pastures where wandered her feet. 
And we yet call it, in delicate outline, 
Bringing us visions of time honored grace, 
By the fond name that her lips softly uttered, 
Flower of loyalty, good Queen Anne's lace! 

AUTUMN'S FLOWER 

Winds of autumn sweeping 

Waters cold and gray, 
Russet leaves down falling, 

Song birds far away, — 

Golden-rod and aster 

Donning feathery plumes, 
Last of autumn's daughters, 

Lo the gentian blooms ! 

63 



MIDSUMMER'S MESSAGE 

Drowsy, fern scented midsummer pasture, 
Golden with sunlight, brilliant in hue, 

Sing me a song of your rapturous meaning. 
Tell me the secret the sun shares with you. 

Song of the Pasture 

And it's oh the azalea, 
The white swamp azalea, 

She holds the trees' message, 
The balm of the pine, 

All the scents of the forest, 
The truth of its shadows. 

And the sweet white azalea 
Forever is mine! 

And its hey for the sweet fern, 

The darling of summer, 
The ground sparrow rests 

'Neath its sheltering spray, 
Spicy and odorous. 

Sweet and yet vigorous, 
Mystical, magical. 

Earth owns its sway! 

Yellow the sunshine. 

Yellow the starlight. 
Yellow gold's gleam 

In spirit or truth, 



N 



What is more brilliant, 

What more ecstatic, 
Than the bright goldenrod, 

Flower of youth? 

Scarlet my lilies, 

Flaming in splendor, 
Lifting fair heads 

Crowned with diamonds of dew, 
Emblems all reverent, 

Of the Divine One, 
Who, once incarnate, 

Life's agony knew. 

Yet one more greeting, 

Hope's joyous greeting; 
These pearly petals 

Their story show well. 
What can be purer, 

What more heart-resting, 
Than the world message 

Of white immortelle? 



65 



BEYOND THE GATES 

But yet a little while 
And our waking souls shall see 
All the holy mystery 

That the gates of Death unfold. 

A little longer here, 

More of sorrow, more of pain, 
Cares perchance, or anguish vain, 

Then the tale of Life is told. 

Oh spirits in God's peace, 

Wrapt in beatific light, 

Who have passed the shades of night, 
Help us, calm us, by your prayer. 
Through our troubled life 

Keep your mystic presence near. 

Our heart given tribute hear, 
Hold us, suppliant, in your care. 

AFTER LONG YEARS 

And they are gone — but no — 
While memory's dear fancy brings so clear 

The sunny eyes, and laughter sweet and low. 
We may not doubt those loving souls are near. 

Though long since passed are life's dark pain and woe. 

Beyond Death's gates — in peace — 
A holier joy those hearts beloved know, 

Where love ineffable may never cease. 
Where radiant light makes dim earth's pain below, — 

And soon to us will come their glad release! 

66 



IF I WERE YOU 

If I were you 
I would a courteous, gentle reverence show 

Toward those, who, burdened with advancing years 
Tread falteringly the thorny paths of Life, 

With seeking eyes, oft dimmed by unshed tears : 
It may be darker woes than they now know 
Will come to you. 

If I were you 
I would reflect that youth lasts but a day, 

The silvery laugh soon loses its gay charm, 
Both rose and lily fade from lip and brow. 

And Time, unchecked, will fairest foe disarm. 
Pause, e'er Death's silence greets the heart dismay 
Regret brings you. 

If I were you 
Perchance more deeply had I, thoughtless, erred; 
We, mortal, may not judge our friend or foe, — 
My faults are grievous — but I humbly say. 

The way lies open, and its truth you know, 
And have, for good or ill, my warning heard : 
Peace be with you! 



67 



THE SUNSET ROAD 

Silence — and setting sun — 
While black against the golden light 
The branches' waving tracery 
Is outlined to the smallest leaf; 
The skimming swallows homeward fly, 
And white the dusty highway winds 
By deep blue pool, and shimmering sea, 
Up through the hills where shadows lie, 
To meet the crimson of the sky. 
The glowing radiance of the sky, 
Above the hills where shadows lie. 

Silence, and blessed peace — 
Along the dusty road of life 
Dark trees their branches lift on high 
With golden Hope's bright rays between 
To cheer sad pain's despairing cry; 
And white the untried highway winds 
By quiet pool, or restless sea. 

Up through the hills where shadows lie, 
To meet the glory of the sky, 
The unknown radiance of God's sky, 
Above the hills where shadows lie! 

Into the crimson and the gold, 
Into the new life from the old. 
Above the sorrows dark that lie 
Beneath the arch of earthly sky, 
To life and joy beyond compare. 
Death's gentle arms the soul shall bear. 



68 



Into the realms of boundless light, 
Far from the land of deepening night, 
Above the hill where shadows lie 
Into the radiance of God's sky! 

REST 

Sometime, somewhere, it may be on this earth. 
Will come a sense of all-pervading calm 
When heart and mind and soul in harmony 
And sweet attune with God's unspoken law, 
Will rest, untrammeled by the heavy weight 
That spirit chained to body must endure. 
And lost in silence, reverent, profound. 
Will know that peace is Life's great destiny. 



69 



FOR ALL SOULS DAY 

High stands the stainless altar, and white flowers, 

Emblems of souls to purer regions flown. 

Send forth their perfume, while the incensed air 

Shines radiant with the golden sunbeams' light: 

The mighty organ peals, and now the choir 

With upborne cross, chant sweet a hymn of praise,- 

Then solemn hush. The consecrated priest 

The sacred service reverently begins. 

Oh day for human hearts! The King of Heaven 

Brings to His feast the living and the dead, 

While Paradise draws nearer to our view. 

And now before the kneeling, waiting throng 

The priest stands forth; — "I bid you pray for those 

Who once, on this our earth, were well-beloved, 

And now, in mystic thought, are near us still." 

Then follows name on name — to longing souls 

Who hear with joy, yet heartbreak, the dear words. 

The list is closed, — 

"Grant unto them, oh Lord, 
Eternal peace, and may light perpetual shine upon 
them." 

Fast fall the tears — our earthly loss is hard, 
But oh the joy ineffable to know 
That in the blest communion soul to soul 
Stands near, through Christ's unceasing sacrifice, 
Who died that they, that we, might ever live. 



THE PEACE OF EARTH 
In Memory oj the Rev. Dr. William B. Frisby 

Bright on thy resting place 

The eastern sun his morning greeting throws; 
Tall trees their waving branches interlace, 

While far beneath the murmuring river flows, 
Telling its tale of sweet and soothing rest 
To thee, whom earth holds on her faithful breast. 

Fulfilled thy spoken word;— 

Thou liest as thy loving wish has sought 
With those who have the priestly counsels heard, 

And holy truths, thy sealed lips have taught. 
The consecrated pastor, friend, and guide, 
Death from his seeking flock will not divide. 

Dust unto dust is given;— 

Beside the silent earth we kneel in prayer, 
And round us falls the conscious peace of Heaven, 

As once came peace beneath thy tender care. 
And if such comfort in our earth life lies, 
Who may describe thy bliss in Paradise? 



71 



IN THE WORLD 

Blindfold, I wander through life's vale; 
Sometimes fair purple hills with silvery streams 
My inner fancy sees, and I press on, 
Undaunted, fearless, to the utmost goal, 
When lo, the vision dies; and I behold 
An arid waste, bestrewn with sand and stones, 
While fancy's image melts away in tears. 

Again, unthinking, do I wander on. 
Through footpaths trod by hosts of weary feet, 
When, all unsought for, comes the sound of rills, 
The green leaves' rustle, and the song of birds; 
My Winded eyes see clear, and to my heart 
Comes the sweet peace of perfect joy fulfilled. 

Which better serves Life's plan? 

I may not tell; 

The sadness that has come from hope's lost ray 

Has often been precursor of some gift 

Before undreamed of, priceless in its worth. 

While days of joy's dehghts forever live 

In memory's gold-tinted woodland shades. 

Blindfold, I patient stand and wait; 

God's gifts are good — and sometime shall we see 

That Life's long story, filled with joy or pain, 

Was best, as it was told, in His own way. 

And by His guidance, led us to His rest. 



72 



AT DAWN 

M. W. F. 

At dawn's first ray I dreamed: 

Within my hands 
A bluebird nestled, resting for a space. 
When lo, he sprang forth caroling, 
And I, at peace, mourned not his vacant place. 

With waking eyes I saw, 

Outside the pane, 
A bluebird, greeting blessed Spring's glad day: 
A joyous sight — while into rest 
Dawn's angel bore a peaceful soul away. 



73 



A NOVEMBER BIRTHDAY 

S. W. F. 

Might I choose the month for thee, 
Sunny June, with flowers 'twould be, 
Or the golden days of free 
Fair September. 

Yet to me this thought is clear; 
Though some days are sad and drear 
Faith, Hope, Joy, still triumph here 
In November. 

Lasting love in topaz lies, 
Rosemary remembrance cries 
To the child whose opening eyes 
Greet November. 

"Harvest Home" to England dear, 
Puritan Thanksgiving here 
Cry, "All hail!" with merry cheer, 
Bhthe November. 

Yet a deeper joy is bom, 
Looking towards the glorious dawn 
Of the holy Christmas mom, 
Blest December. 

Let a wish be thine from me; — 
This: that truer still may be 
All Thanksgiving unto thee 
Each November. 



74 



A SEA SONG 

Oh the gladness, bright yet tender, 
Of the sea! 
Underneath the sunny sky 
Swift the laughing wavelets hie, 
Dancing on unceasingly, 
RippUng soft unrestingly, 
Gifts of hope and joy to render. 
Hearts to cheer, as love's defender, 
Underneath the sunny sky, 
Swift to come, and swift to fly! 

Oh the passion and the yearning 
Of the sea! 
Underneath the leaden sky. 
Hoarse the crested surges cry. 
Crushing pain unceasingly, 
Bearing woe unrestingly, 
Thought of comfort harshly spurning, 
Agony's sharp tortures learning. 
Underneath the leaden sky, 
Bearing Death, yet not to die! 

Oh the heart beyond our knowing, 
Of the sea! 
Underneath the starry sky, 
Hushed the gentle waters lie. 
Whispering hope unceasingly. 
Murmuring peace unrestingly, 
Ever in their mighty flowing, 
Grandest truths on us bestowing. 
Underneath the starry sky, 
Teaching us, in trust, to die! 
75 



SIMPATICA 

Dearly beloved, when was the word given 
That our lives ever and always should meet ? 

May we, at last, in our Lord's perfect Heaven, 
Find our love's meaning in knowledge complete? 

Mystery ever envelopes and holds us: 

Eyes turn to eyes, and sweet smile answers smile; 

Why, we know not, nor the golden chain binding,- 
Only our hearts feel the truth all the while. 

These are our own, whether near us or absent, 
Time, sadness, sinning, the bonds may not break; 

Some in our world, some in God's closer keeping, 
All gently striving our life's peace to make. 

Never alone, whether waking or sleeping. 
In the green forest, or on the wide sea, 

Close to the hearts of our own well beloved, 
Close to God's heart, who willed this to be. 



76 



IN MY DREAM 

Softly and lightly the murmuring sea 

Touched the green bank of the sunlight-kissed shore ; 
Steadily, slowly, the boat floated by. 

Steered without hands, and borne on without oar. 

Tenderly gleamed the soft light in thine eyes, 
Gently thy hands lay in motionless rest; 

Dreary and sad had thy life's journey been, 
Now came sweet stillness at Heaven's behest. 

On thee I gazed, oh soul dear to my heart. 
Needing thee, loving thee, seeking for aye. 

Stretched out my hand for thy warm loving clasp, 
On« who arose between, answered me, "Nay." 

Backward I stepped, light the boat touched the strand , 
Gently they lifted thee, sweetly content. 

Star-like the gaze of thy dark eyes reached mine, 
On thee so eagerly, yearningly bent. 

*'Dear one, 'tis well," was my heart's inward cry, 
"E'en though no more may our living eyes meet; 

What was, and is, and is ever to be. 

Life may not sever, Death only complete." 

No more that vision my dreaming thoughts see. 
Long since Death's angel has closed those dear eyes. 

Patient I wait till Life's days run their course. 
Trusting full joy in Our Lord's Paradise. 



77 



RECOGNITION 

In memory oj Annie M, Clarke. 

Tenderly, sweetly, Death's angel has spoken, 
Peacefully 'neath his soft touch hast thou slept, 

Closed thy dear eyes, their life's calmness unbroken, 
Care, pain and sorrow, forever has left. 

Loyal and true wert thou, giving, not seeking, 
Hiding life's anguish that smile might greet smile, 

Ever the joy in another's heart meeting. 
Bearing the burden of others the while. 

Always compassionate, always forgiving. 
Never condemning the sinner — but sin; 

Shall not thy charity help us, yet living 
Still greater faith in God's mercy to win? 

As thou hast shown us, while yet in the earth hfe. 
What mortal love on its pure heights may give, 

May thy example, in days with life's woes rife, 
Teach us more nobly and purely to live. 

Never below didst thou know all the treasure. 

Love's richest guerdon, thy blessed heart claimed. 

Yet our deep tenderness no words may measure 
When oft among us thy brave life is named. 

But, in thy rest in God's all-tender keeping. 
Who may describe the joy sacred and pure, 

When souls unknown, in true soul knowledge meeting, 
Tell thee the harvest thy life's beauty bore? 

78 



I 



And, when at last in the Heavenly glory, 
We who so honor and reverence thy name, 

Greet thee, and tell all our life's loving story. 
Sweet the fruition thy glad soul may claim! 

LIFE'S HELPERS 

We would, on this our earth, perfected be, 
But that may never come till mystic Death 
His veiled portals opens to our gaze. 
And we behold the shining stream of Time, 
Eternal life, beyond our finite thought, 
Flow gently through the lily-margined plain 
Whereon are met souls freed from sin and woe. 

But though no man may reach his utmost here, 

By patient striving, tenderness and love. 

The soul gains strength and radiance, till to all 

Its inner beauty is in part revealed; 

Such spirits sway the world — and we who have 

Their blessed influence felt, must ever know 

An earth life better for the help they gave. 



79 



CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN'S GRAVE 

The granite shaft that marks thy resting place 
Does fitting honor to the proud, true heart 

That, all-unconquered, pain's deep anguish bore, 
Saw youth, and love, and even life, depart, 

And held betrayal. Spartan-like, disgrace. 

Descendant of the Pilgrims, worthy thou 

Through ancient lineage, as through spotless soul, 

Of all the loving tribute we may bring. 
As passing years their fading records roll. 

Till we, who reverence, at Death's summons bow. 

But not alone thy strong enduring mind 
We hold thus honored, but thy tender care 

For that dear sister, whose close friend thou wert, 
And for that other noble heart and fair 

Whom joys of Paradise to thee now bind. 

Though thy now sacred name forgotten rest. 
Yet will thy life work still remain complete, — 

For on the mimic stage, that influence pure 
Will ever spread, in widening rays, to meet 

All that young hearts unfold at truth's behest. 



80 



FROM THE DEPTHS 

Sadly I said, 

''My life has failed; 

In vain my bitter tears, my ceaseless woe. 

No more may I joy's wondrous beauty know, 

My hope is dead!" 

Over my head 

A sunbeam strayed: 

Within my heart a glowing radiance bright 

Turned toward the soul before whose spotless light 

Despair had fled! 



8i 



ELIZABETH 

Elizabeth Tefherly died in Dover, N. H., 1837 

On the bank of the beautiful river 

Unmarked and unnamed dost thou lie, 

And yet, as I stood there beside thee. 
Nor sorrow nor sadness seemed nigh. 

*'Thou art safe in the beautiful Heaven," * 

Again and again I repeat. 
And the grass-covered grave o'er the river 

Seems fitting thy earth part to meet. 

So peaceful, so lovely the picture, 

EHzabeth, glad as thou art. 
Sometimes do thine eyes softly linger 

On the spot where low lies thy earth part ? 

And my hfe is the river that flowing. 
Seeks peace in the fathomless sea. 

While above, as the mound ever peaceful, 
Does thy glorified spirit wait me. 

Oh EHzabeth, gone ere my childhood, 
A peace from thy soul reaches mine. 

As I think of thy grave on the hillside. 
And dream of the rest long since thine. 



Thou art safe in the beautiful heaven, 
Elizabeth, aged nine! 

Margaret Sangster. 



a? 



A SONG FOR VALENTINE 

Sing a song for Valentine, 

Merry lads and lasses; 
Though beneath the Winter's snow 
Summer's beauty lieth low, 
Yet full soon we know will blow 

Flowers, 'mid tangled grasses. 

Sing a song for coming Spring! 

Dark the days and dreary 
While we felt the Frost King's hold, 
Shivered in the icy cold. 
But sweet Spring, so shy, yet bold, 

Gladdens hearts thus weary. 

Valentine, the Page of Spring, 

Tells her sunny story. 
With his magic willow spray. 
Gold and brown, whose catkins say, 
"Heralds, we, to point the way 

For the coming glory!" 

Valentine, all hail to thee 

In thy youth unfleeting! 
May thy tokens, bright and fair. 
Peace and joy spread everywhere, 
Dearest one of all, you bear 

Spring, glad Spring's first greeting! 



83 



THE QUEEN'S MARIES 

"Last night there were four Maries, 
To-night there'll be but three; 

There was Mary Beaton and Mary Seaton, 
And Mary Carmichael, and me." 

Old Ballad, 

Mary Beaton. 

Oh sunny France! on velvet turf 
'Neath mighty trees we gaily stray, 

But still I see the purple hills 

Where heather blooms and lambkins play, 

Upon whose rugged rocks I climbed 
In childhood's fearless, hopeful day. 

Mary Carmichael. 

Oh sunny France! when first I turned 
My saddened, tear- dimmed eyes to thee, 

I thought on Scotia's far-off shore 
My dearest joy must ever be; 

But now sweet Love has whispered l©w, 
And this fair land is home to me. 

Mary Hamilton. 

Oh, dreary pass the cheerless hours, 
The sword of doom hangs o'er my head; 

All turn from me with shuddering sigh. 
Sleepless I kneel beside my bed, 

And hear the gypsy's fateful words 
That say rest comes but with the dead! 



84 



Mary Seaton. 
Or sunny France, or rock bound shore 

Of Scotia's cold and barren strand, 
I care not, for I bend before 

My sovereign Queen's well-loved command,- 
Marie la reine, whose name I bear. 

Love, life itself, rest in thy hand! 



TRANSLATION OF L'ARCHET 

(the bow.) 

She had fair hair of shining gold 

Like August's harvest, and so long 

It reached her feet in shimmering flood. 

She had a voice both sweet and low, 

For fairy meet, or angel choir, m 

And eyes that ebon lashes veiled. ^ 

No rival feared the soul beloved 

As he o'er hill and valley rode 

With that sweet maid upon his steed. 

For erstwhile from the living world 
Cold and aloof she e'er had dwelt 
Until the day her gaze met his. 

I 

Then burning love her spirit seized, ^ 

And, for one cruel, mocking smile. 
Death's icy hand fell on her heart. 

And with her last caresses, 
"Make a bow from out these tresses 
To charm another love than mine." 

Then in a last strained kiss 
She died. And as she willed 
He made the bow of golden hair. 

As a blindman, lightly. 
Upon the sad Cremona, 
He played, demanding alms. 
36 



All shuddered at the sound, 

For in those tones 

A dead Love lived, and plaintive songs. 

The king, charmed, gave him gold; 
The traitor pleased the dark-eyed queen, 
And bore her far in moonlight's gleam. 

But when he touched the fateful bow 
To please the Queen — arose 
Murmured reproaches, soft and low. 

(Oh Lamb of God, who takest away the sins 
of the world, oh Holy Jesus, Lord God, give 
unto them eternal rest!) 

To the sound of the desolate wail 
They died — in the prime of youth — 
And the Dead took back her gage. 

She took back her golden hair, 

In color like August wheat, 

That shimmered down to the ground. 



87 



/'^ 



i a 



